Of Flat-Fours, 389s and 440s: Autoweek's new Senior Online Editor, West Coast explains from whence the mania came

January 2, 2012

Share

Facebook

Tweet

Pinterest

Email

It started with Porsches, Mopars and Pontiacs. The high-school volleyball coach down the street had a 356 coupe. My toddler friend's older half-brothers were constantly spinning wrenches on a black-on-black Coronet R/T with a white bumblebee stripe. One of the moms in my playgroup drove a bright green 1974-76 914 with the black “PORSCHE” rocker stripe. My grandparents owned a pair of pristine Catalina Safaris--a 1962 and a '68. My favorite pastime in the stroller--a contraption my dad referred to as the “Peterbilt”--was identifying cars by their hubcaps.

My favorites were the late-'60s Pontiac models made up of concentric circles. In an effort to figure out if perhaps there was some manner of slang term for those particular wheel covers--you know, along the lines of “dog dish,” “gas burner” or “swanga”--I discovered this and immediately purchased it. Henceforce, by decree, said hubcaps shall be referred to as “Davey G.'s Numberless Clock.” Jot that down in the Moleskines, 24-Hour Poncho People. There might well be a quiz.

A decade on, with a 1975 Chevrolet El Camino sitting in my driveway--one I was still two years away from driving--I purchased a used cassette by a band from Washington, D.C., called Minor Threat. The album was so short that the label simply put the entire program on each side of the tape. Though I didn't go full-on punk rock for a few more years, things were never quite the same afterward. During college, I wound up designing records for Bay Area bands; shortly thereafter, I found myself art-directing and writing for a super-dense fanzine called Hit List. Meanwhile, I was also contributing articles on the hot rod/muscle scene to a local shopper/event rag.

Exclaiming, “You've done a punk mag! You've done a car mag! You're the only man for the job!” Bay Area punk stalwart Mike LaVella handed me the reigns of Gearhead, the world's only Chrysler-centric rock 'n' roll magazine. Around the same time, a hot-shot start-up in New York City had launched a ludicrous car blog written by a Westchester County crossover-thrash-scene vet named Mike Spinelli. Spinelli was a fan of Gearhead, which is how I became Employee #2 at Jalopnik. After two-and-a-half years of meme-generating lunacy, I decamped to my hometown of Sacramento, faffed about with transcontinental banzai cadet Alex Roy on a few projects, directed a music video, and then found myself sucked into the auto-journo orbit once again, contributing to Jalopnik, Car and Driver and Yahoo! Autos.

At the Los Angeles auto show this past November, I got to chatting with Andy Stoy. He proceeded to make me an offer I'd be a chowder-licking dunderhead to refuse. So here I am, well and truly part of the establishment. Hail fair Detroit from afar! Dear Pontiac is dead! Davey G.'s Numberless Clock is ticking!